This has been the summer of sunshine and twitter.
Who knew I'd love them both equally?
My latest 'follow'?
She is one of my favorite authors.
LOVE her writing. And her faith. And her messy, unconventional, big, joy-filled life.
Ten seconds after following her on twitter, I zipped over to facebook and liked her page.
I just read this posting on her timeline and feel compelled to share it here:
Today is my 27th anniversary of being clean and sober, the greatest miracle of my life. So this brief post is to thank you for your love, support and prayers, which I have always felt as as a writer and public person--always....
AND to sneakily try to suck some of you into the web of recovery.
I think there is a tiny, tiny chance that some people reading this, maybe one or two people--I'm sure YOU are just fine--wake up many mornings feeling defeated and insane. These two wake up confused about why on earth they drank--or ate--so much again. Or why they are trying to save yet one more pissed-off person from the catastrophe of that person's consequences, esp since that person hates and resents all those loving efforts and excellent suggestions? Or why they are once again being shamed by their mate, who actually had TATTOOS on their forehead that said, "Will not be able to love you: will in fact be addicted to withholding love from you."
Why do you voluntarily make yourself sick and ashamed so often? I mean, that is kind of nuts, isn't it?
That's where I was July 7th, 1986, sick and tired of being sick and tired, but scared to death that I wouldn't be able to write well anymore, that my creative spirit depended on alcohol for its expression, for its existence. I was scared to death that if I stopped drinking, my social life was over, that any sense of wild expansive joy and oneness would dry up. And how could you possibly date without several glasses of wine, and possibly, a few drinks, and then the tiniest bit of neighborly cocaine? (My friend Tom says he also used to have a little social amyl nitrate, but that was just because he was shy.)
But July 7, 1986, I had finally run out of any more good ideas on how to stop the pain and shame of using. So I asked a sober friend to help me. He asked if I could go for one day without a drink. I was sufficiently hungover to think that, yes, I could. I asked for help, and I said Yes. And today, 9855 days and 11 books later, with a son, a grandson, sober and cherished brothers, a gorgeous breathtaking community of closest companions, world travel, daily hikes, well, yes--I definitely think I can go for one more day without a drink.
You can do it, Cinderelli, Cinderelli: I promise that if I can, you can too. Ask someone to help you. You know who I mean. You know one person who has found freedom from the madness and addiction that leaves you feeling such sickness and shame. That's all you have to do. Say yes, for the one day. That's all I did.
Dag Hammaskjlod wrote, "I don't know Who -- or what -- put the question, I don't know when it was put. I don't even remember answering. But at some moment I did answer Yes to Someone --or Something --and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and that, therefore, my life, in self-surrender, had a goal."
Come on: now boarding.
Yes, I get that this was totally a cheater post. Hardly any of my own words here.
Sorry. After work I had supper with a friend. Then we went to Chapters. And when I got home, there was company here. And then mom wanted to watch three more episodes of Season 2 and now? I'm looking forward to going downstairs to my refrigerated room.
The days? Just don't have enough hours in them.
Three things I'm thankful for:
1. We still have over 30 days of summer to look forward to. SO thankful that God invented sunshine.
2. Three hour dinner conversations.
3. Unexpected opportunities.
4. The twinkling lights on the other side of the river.
5. Hydrangea blooms.
6. People with integrity.